


Terms of Surrender

by LadyBinary



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Existential Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Moral Ambiguity, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Psychological Trauma, References to Depression, Telepathy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBinary/pseuds/LadyBinary
Summary: Her people told her she would be a tribute of surrender. Ignorance is bliss.Similar to 'Be At Peace', a hurt-comfort with as little context or chardev as possible for a fully self-insertable POV. Themes of existential despair and the death of innocence; seeking comfort and survival in our darkest times.
Relationships: Horde Prime (She-Ra)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

_it’s empty_

_oh gods oh Light_

_the Universe is empty_

-

Inside, Existence itself unfolds. 

It tears through her like a supernova. No - a supernova is infinitesimal, meaningless. The greatest star is but an atom to the Void. 

“She’s cut off from the hivemind, Lord Prime. The infinity bomb is contained.”

In one inconsequential speck of the vast emptiness, there is cool floor against her cheek, and voices. But what is she, and everything she knows? What does it matter, once the stars have gone out?

“So this is their so-claimed ‘tribute’ to Me... a barbaric attack strategy.” From somewhere above her tiny speck, there comes a disappointed sigh. “And a failed one. The poor lamb’s sacrifice is meaningless.” 

In that insignificant sliver of reality, a limp body is gathered into sturdy arms, and held against a crisp white tabard. The contact does not soothe her. Nothing could. 

“My lord... I don’t understand. The chip is completely burnt out, but she herself appears unhurt.”

The weight of a palm settles on her knitted brow. Minutes ago, the metal-accented touch would have filled her with joy. In the wake of the infinite, there is nothing left of her to fill.

“This one would envy your blindness, my ‘brother’. ...You cannot hear her screams.” 

-

_all of it nothing_

_nothing but nothing forever_

_i didn’t know oh Light i didn’t know_

Her purposeless body is moving, carried from the throne room in the arms of the clone. The resonant voice walks ahead. “I’ve seen weapons of its type; respectably advanced. It removes the bounds on mortal perception… any consciousness it touches is exposed to the fabric of reality.”

She perceives the words, but they do not matter. Nothing matters - not her, not the drawn-out fall of her people, not even her vain hope of amity. Life itself begins and ends, a trillion times over, simultaneously. It flares up and burns out in the briefest blink - from the first wriggling bacteria to the last dying gasps of civilization; all that absurd and pointless struggle, collapsing to nothing against infinite emptiness.

“Clever little trick, to have it triggered when the host opens to another mind.” The voice should be infinitesimal, like everything else. Yet, somehow, it still reaches her. “Futile, of course... but clever.”

In her brief existence, there appears a surface beneath her, padded, flat. The arms gently lay her down, and withdraw. Another frame alights at her side; the weight settles at her hip, leaning over her body. She hears a tiny whimper - her own? - as a metal claw runs back behind her neck, to the scorched, sparking remains of salvation.

_Tragic… such pointless suffering. One does not send a mortal weapon to destroy a God._

The resonant voice now blooms in her mind - a mote of light, like a single spark in an endless storm. Somehow - impossibly - someone is _here,_ beside her in the vast nothing. She grasps for the presence in desperation.

_it goes on forever i can’t_

_oh Light please help me_

_make it stop_

Her scraps of self are scattered across the emptiness of the universe. How can anyone reach her like this? The Presence is steady, composed, even as it stands above her crumpled consciousness and overlooks infinity.

_It’s all right, little sacrifice. It will all be over soon._

In the sliver of physical reality, the hand draws back from her neck and strokes its cool metal point up her tear-streaked cheek. Her mind, what is left of it, sobs.

_i didn’t know_

_they told me i was of value_

_they told me i would see the stars_

_they told me i_

_i was_

_safe_

The hand falls still at her cheek. She feels him - somehow, impossibly, she _feels_ him lean closer, even as the stars burn to ashes over and over and over - feels the warmth of his palm, engulfing one side of her face.

 _I see now. Oh, my poor lamb._ The voice softens. His thumb strokes over her cheekbone, gathering her tears amidst the heat death of the Universe.

_You gave yourself ...to a lie._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worry that metaphors about uncovering past trauma while trying to be intimate - and about the futility of existence in general - are not suited for a mildly horny SPOP villain-simp fic. :P Don't worry, there's snuggles soon in ch2.


	2. Chapter 2

The stars are dying, again and again; yet, she is here, anchored in his arms. He holds her, unflinching, in the face of infinity. 

The Presence gathers her scraps of Self from the corners of the Universe. Shattered, she cannot even cling to him; her consciousness curls in on itself as he draws her together, a trembling atom in the Void. She is not sure if the high, keening sobs come from her physical throat or her mind. Both, perhaps. It does not matter. 

“This one _meant_ her surrender." His resonant voice seems so far above her. "A blind trust… callously misused by her own kind."

The clone is even more distant; his words barely leak in from the next galaxy over. "How could a world be so driven to deny your Light?"

Gently, a steel-armored finger brushes her hair off her face. She cannot feel herself shaking, but she feels his warmth. His broad hand cups her head, to support the weight of the Universe. 

"Utter savagery," mutters the Prime. "A beautiful gift of tribute… _desecrated.”_

The words filtering in through her ears have no meaning. Though the infinite is fading, still its burned-out stars are etched into her mind - like embers, searing forever behind her eyelids to boil away her useless tears. This feeling could not be expressed by such a petty medium. The clouds in her vision, the streaks down her cheeks, are the smoldering dust from a million dying stars. 

A careful touch gathers the stardust clinging to her eyelashes. The low voice cools, hardens, as his arm tightens to hold her close. "Target their fleet."

Robes shift nearby as the clone stands. "We will see to it at once."

From here, pressed to the chest of a god, she now feels the source of his warmth. This is no mortal heartbeat beneath her cheek; she has seen it from the infinite. Inside is a vast, raging sunstorm - the silent fury of a neutron star. 

"Burn them to atoms," Prime murmurs, "and scatter them to the void." 

"…And the… tribute?" 

"Under my protection.” His palm holds her face. Something brushes her hairline; then, his voice - much softer, and much closer - warms her skin. “They will never know what they sacrificed.”

Gradually, that warmth draws her back from the sunless eternity. His lips linger there for a long moment, then lift away. “Not many would survive what she has seen. But it seems… this one will." 

Somehow - though the infinite Void bears down on her eyelids - somehow, she opens her eyes.

It feels like a paradox, an impossibility, for such an entity to look at her so… earnestly. The face of a sunstorm gazes down at her, and gives a slow, radiant smile.

“A worthy tribute indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real short chapter as I decided to split the last scene off into a third chapter. However, I feel it could just as easily end here - especially since this ending is a bit more hopeful than the somewhat ambiguous one I have planned. I ended up feeling a bit better :P Might leave the additional scene on the backburner for a rainy day.
> 
> Credit to @MasqueradeTea for some aspects/details of the original concept, basically "Zaddy snuggles you while gratuitously pissed on your behalf" :P


End file.
